Resist the Big Dogs
Ann Marie Meehan


 
Port Montgomery has two dog parks, side by side. The large one is for large breeds. The small one is for small breeds, owned and managed by my dog, Jennie Roo. Jennie is a 25 pound rough- haired Jack Russell with Cleopatra eyes who thinks she’s the activities director. She runs a tight ship. Any time light rough-housing turns into bullying and aggressive behavior, Jennie inserts herself and shuts it down. Is it out of concern for her pack members or is it because it interrupts her fun? Regardless, she thinks it’s her job and her mates and their owners seem very satisfied with her performance.
 
“Clover, Lizzie, Jennie’s here!” says Laura, owner of a white teacup Maltese and the barking dachshund dressed in a red flannel cloak.
 
“Hell-ooo, Jennie!” chimes in Mr. Glass, who belongs to his surly terrier, Glenn.
 
 “Nancy, Jennie’s here. We were wondering if you were coming today!” says Casey, hands on knees to smile at Jennie on her level. Nancy is yet another terrier with an attitude (something about that breed!). She wears a permanent snarl and her fur is coarse. She is one of Jennie’s favorite wrestling buddies.
 
All is harmonious--ten dogs frolicking, running, sniffing, pooping, fetching balls and rough-housing. Now, let me describe “rough-housing” in detail as it comes into play later in the story. This activity usually involves two dogs and can range from rolling around on the ground on top of each other, or like dancing with both animals standing on their hind legs, front paws around the others’ neck. What it does not include is aggressive behavior where one dog nips or bites at
the other’s limbs, tail or ears with intent to intimidate or injure. One way you can tell that a dog is not receptive to another’s advances is that the hair on its back stands up like a Mohawk, and at that point, it’s time for someone to step in and break it up. It’s not difficult- you stamp your feet and take a dominant stance and use your voice in a low correction. And that’s the way it usually goes, except these are not usual times.
 
All has not been well in the small dog park recently. Not too long ago, a seismic shift occurred at our park. A man decided he wanted to bring his large, lab pup into the small dog park. Sidelong glances and looks of concern moved from one owner to another as the pup crashed into the teacups and snapped at the two terriers happily dancing together. The lab’s owner was blissfully ignorant of the reactions of the small dog owners who were hoping his indulgence wouldn’t result in their costly trip to the vet or worse, the animal emergency hospital.
 
What in the world is happening here, I wondered. My fellow owners were silent, reluctant to call out bad behavior, both dogs and their owners unwilling or unable to confront a bully and take action. I pulled out my cell-phone and looked up Merriam Webster’s site for the definition of “resist:”

Yup. It’s all about ACTION. “Exert” and “defeat” and “withstand.”
 
Our society has had little use for resistance in modern times; think about it.
 
Let’s talk tech. Yes, we all know how useful cells and tablets and GPSs are, but when was the last time you saw someone openly resist their lure?
 
And what about what’s right or wrong? Last week in Wegman’s I watched a child playing with a pricey iced, fresh fish while her mother pointedly ignored this willful naughtiness.
 
“How would you like to buy that knowing that someone put their hands all over it in flu season?” I asked the mother who reacted with astonishment, then anger, stalking away as if I’d injured her child.
 
Standing in that dog park, I was awash with the realization that like Brienne of Tarth, I’ve been wearing my resistance suit of armor for a long, long time. My resistance wear is worn thin- I’ve resisted coaches, teachers and doctors who told me where or what or who my children should be and how they should feel-indeed, I resisted their belief that they knew more than I did about my offspring. So I read and learned to build an argument and began thinking critically and strategically and found their weak points. Winning!
 
I resisted my ex-husband’s insistence that I put away my dream of graduating from university. That one was a very long, bloody battle.
 
I won.
 
Now: let’s talk about women. When was the last time we thought about the need to resist an image of womanhood that doesn’t look or feel like us? In my fifties I am smarter and better than I have ever been. I LOVE myself and I resist and reject the media, air-brushed
 
unachievable ideal that’s been created and foisted upon women. I now resist painful pantyhose and Spanx I have minimalized my makeup and had my hair cut so my ears feel GREAT.
Another deep fear I have actively resisted of late: the fear of book extinction and burning. I resist this by buying lots of books and supporting efforts to advance writers and books like joining the WNBA! After looking at a screen eight hours a day, there is no better way to resist this than by touching the spine, cover and pages of books.
 
OK, OK, you’re saying; get to it. Get back to the dog park.
 
The Lab is now stalking the Yorkie. Its owner swoops down and picks her up as the lab lungs at the owner.
 
E-NOUGH. Resistance has now reared up the hair on MY back and I am propelled into action on behalf of the dogs and owners, a bat-shit crazy old lady sick and damned tired of BULLIES.
The lab has now put its teeth around the neck of another pup who is screaming, its owner trying desperately to pull the little animal to safety. And I feel myself moving very fast (not like me) towards this melee, huge, plastic water container in hand, battering the Lab’s head, shouting and screaming like a lunatic, full of fury and anger and determination.
 
“What are you doing? Don’t touch MY DOG!” shouts the Lab’s owner, suddenly realizing that there is resistance.
 
Silence and the smell of dog shit sat in the air as the owners gathered round me, “Thank-you, Ann Marie.” said Amy, pressing my hand.
 
Exhausted, I looked at the circle of regulars staring at the damaged pup, the size of a squirrel, quaking in its owner’s sweaty paw.
 
“I can’t do this on my own. This requires all of us to resist this behavior and call out the bullies. If we don’t, someone in this pack is going to get hurt. No more politeness. Call it out. Call -it -out. RESIST.”
 
We’ve discussed this and lately my fellow owners are finding ways to thwart the bullies and their owners. Sometimes it requires turning our backs and walking out with our dogs, denying the mean dog opportunity and prey. “What kind of dog is that? Is it considered a small breed?…What does your dog weigh? .See the hair on my dog’s back standing up? That means she’s scared…”
 
All the small dog owners are in agreement now: I’m the only big dog allowed in the small dog park. I look down at the “stay nasty” button on my coat and smile.



 
 
 

About the Author: Ann Marie Meehan is an award-winning, published short story writer who lives near Valley Forge, Pennsylvania.  She obtained her degree in English from the University of Pennsylvania and is currently at work on a novel of  historical fiction chronicling the fortunes and failings of an Irish-American family in 1950s Philadelphia. 
 
Ann Marie, her husband, John, and their dog, Jennie Roo, are avid travelers and adventure-seekers. Their travel resume includes Morocco, where Ann Marie found a sympathetic dromedary capable of carrying her across the desert.
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